The Back Scratcher

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People say life's simple pleasures are the best, but then people especially those who can't afford or have never heard of more complex pleasures like custom-knit socks or nude badminton talk a lot of crap and always have. Which isn't to call back scratching a simple pleasure it's not, not if you can't reach the itchy spot, so you have to get up and either find a place to rub yourself against or find something in the kitchen you can use. That two-pronged skewer could work, but if you wake her up to ask where the hell it is, you might as well wake her up to scratch your goddamn back to begin with, and either way, you wind up a horse's ass.

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What I'm saying is, it's not so simple a thing, scratching your back, and as far as pleasures go, neither is it a small thing. I'm no zoologist, but it seems to me that scratching ceaselessly is something primates even those not covered entirely by hair do. I'm not a neurologist, either, but no itch feels as urgent as a back itch, at least no itch that can't be scratched by simply sticking your hand down your drawers, fore or aft.

A back scratcher is what you need. I've got two; one stays next to the rocker in the living room, the other travels from my office to the bedroom. You can find mine at BackScratcherWorld.com, for twenty bucks, made of hardwood one of mine is cedar-handled, the other walnut and absolutely beautiful in a simple, form-follows-function way, which is the very best way of all, if you ask me. Scott Raab

The Most Comfortable Pants a Man Can Wear: Moleskin Trousers

Chris Eckert/Studio D

Let's get one thing straight: Moleskin is not made from moles. But it sure feels like moles. (I think. I've never stroked a mole. But growing up around grade-A southern-English countryside Thomas Hardy country, mole paradise I know they're soft looking. And that they'd probably make damn good trousers.) Moleskin is made from cotton, a humble cloth, an honest-to-goodness country cloth. Technically, like corduroy, it's a "fustian": a soft but dense weave made by brushing cotton into a fuzzy, napped surface, which makes it remarkably warm, light, and resistant to cold, rain, and wind. And soft. And when it comes to making pants out of it narrow trousers, please they don't get any more comfortable. Moleskin is thick, spongy, supple, inside and out. It feels like you're wearing pants made from a ShamWow. And unlike other pants and unlike moles they only get better with age. Nick Sullivan, Esquire Fashion Director

A Hug from a Large Woman

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You're not really in control: Your arms may struggle to circumscribe her, and you have to wait to be pulled in, guest instead of host. You have to surrender. My first time, I was saying goodbye to a coworker. She must have been 300 pounds an odd pairing to my slim 150 and after a tentative approach, I sunk into her largesse with a satisfaction that surprised me, like Brer Rabbit in a briar patch of bosom. I felt like I'd discovered pillow-top mattresses after a lifetime of sleeping on a board.

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When you hug a large woman, you are swaddled in her excess. Your arms behind her receive pleasant, visceral feedback the give that doesn't come from a toned trunk. Even the most perfunctory hug is transformed from duty into joy. It feels maternal, safe. But more than that, it feels comfortable. This, you'll instinctively know, is hugging. It's just a shame she ever has to let go. Peter Martin

A Drink That Imparts Joy: The Grasshopper

Chris Eckert/Studio D

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Some drinks are acquired tastes, the kind with which the enjoyment comes as much from your mastery of something challenging as it does from the liquid itself. The grasshopper is not one of them. Sweet, creamy, and green, it's nobody's idea of a serious drink. But we defy you not to feel good when you're drinking one (and we do mean one, not two, three, or more). A grasshopper should slide down your throat like so much barely melted chocolate-chip-mint ice cream. The good-sized slug of brandy supplements the canonical liqueurs with a sepia-toned leanness that allows the drink to evoke the sweet, sticky treats of youth without actually being one. More importantly, it tastes goood.

We take our formula from Tujague's in New Orleans, which claims to have invented it. That may or may not be so, but they certainly perfected it. David Wondrich

Shake well with plenty of ice:

1 oz cognac

1/2 oz green créme dementhe (look for the Get or Marie Brizard brands)

1/2 oz white créme de cacao (Marie Brizard or Bols)

1 oz half-and-half or whole milk

Strain into chilled cocktail glass.

Shaving Your Own Head After a Long Night of Drinking

Mitch Blunt

Everyone has their own post-drinking, presleeping hangover cure. Taking a few aspirin or drinking a few glasses of water it can help curb the effects of a hard night out. But for me, nothing beats a good haircut.

I've been shaving my own head close for as long as I can remember. It's impossible to screw up even drunk. Front to back. Back to front. Ear to ear and back. I've gotten three years out of my current set of clippers. And when I get home from a long night out, I often reach for them. The gentle glide of the prongs from the 1/16-inch guard massaging my skull. The barely perceptible lightness of my head. The feel of my scalp against a cold pillow. It's a deeply pleasurable process.

And it's a psychological process. It's the shedding of burden. Watching weeks of growth falling away with every pass. I wake up newer, fresher, lighter. And with a clear head. Michael Norseng